Broken Glass Petals
by dormir
Summary: Olivia cannot decipher whether marrying Henry was the right choice, for she feels as if he is a stranger to her. However, he attempts to reassure her of his feelings. (Slight PWP, although focused primarily on Olivia's internal conflict)


Olivia often dreamed her marriage would consist of pink curtains and soft pillow sheets. The husband she had fantasized about having one day would ravish her, filling each day with love and light. A born mother, her child would be loved like none other. The dancer's face suffused with color without fail at the thought of these wonderful things.

A fleeting dream, however.

In the distance she heard the familiar, dragged-out moans of Risen, followed by sharp clangs and the gruesome clump of bodies hitting earth. She was disgusted at herself for not cringing at that-but, it had become a common sound to her. To most of the other Shepherds, it was a _sight, _rather than a voice heard from afar. Olivia crossed her fingers, praying her husband would return home.

Her heart slowed in relief as a pale-haired mage skipped happily through the tent's flap. Smiling maniacally, he kicked off his shoes and stretched.

_Thank the Gods…_

Olivia sighed, for her husband had returned once more. With her hands balled tightly against her chest, she greeted him. "Hello, Henry. I hope you enjoyed yourself today," she said in a soft tone.

A giggle was offered in return. "Oh, did I ever! But I'll spare you the details," his finger sat upon his chin, musing. "But, if I'm being honest, I was a little distracted. See, here's proof!" Henry removed his raven-black cape, revealing deep cuts and gashes along his torso. "Don't fret! I can hardly feel it! I just knew you'd want to see." He nodded condescendingly.

His wife was taken completely aback. "Oh, Gods…what a mess…" Olivia covered her face in her hands, briefly, before taking a step towards the tent's exit. "I'll…I'll have Maribelle take a look at you."

Henry waved his hands around, blocking his face. Olivia couldn't help but notice his nimble fingers were coated in blood. "No, no! I'm great! Never been better! I've had waaaaaay worse, remember?"

Olivia's peach hair ringlets cascaded to the side as she violently protested. "Henry, please, let me do this much for you. I don't fight, or heal, or anything, while you are all out their risking your lives each day! Henry, there's blood all over your hands, did you not notice?"

"Oh, it's not my blood, so don't worry."

Henry sometimes terrified her when he said such things with that smile of his. In her moment of disdain, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, allowing them to hang loosely.

"I love you, Olivia. That's why I go and fight and hurt people." His lips pressed against Olivia's neck. "I don't want anything to happen to you. This blood on my hands shouldn't frighten you! It's shed to protect you." Olivia shivered as his hands slid onto her bare stomach. "Please…don't ever leave me. I'm head over heels for you, Olivia!"

Olivia simply stood silently and let him speak. She could feel his fingers sneaking around her, while he left ghosts of kisses on her pale skin. However, Olivia was not there. She was one million miles away, in the glittering waves of an imaginary ocean, away, away, away from this war and her husband whom she did not understand.

Thinking back to her childhood, her dream of being married was fulfilled. She was in love, right? So why did the sight of Henry fill her with unfathomable melancholy?

Her eyes bubbled with tears.

"Hmm? Olivia, are you okay?" Henry twisted around to face her, his back facing the tent's entrance. "You don't look so good. I think I can make it better!" He hugged her tightly, leading her towards the meager cot they shared.

Olivia allowed him to lead, shocked at his boldness. Surprisingly, the shy dancing girl was, more often than not, the one to initiate any intimacy. Her shoulder blades rested against the pillow, her ponytail loosening and spreading across the negative space. Henry sat comfortably in between her thighs and leaned closer, putting all his weight on the palms of his hands. His near-invisible bangs hung over his eyes as he slowly placed his head upon Olivia's bare stomach.

"You can do as you please with my garments," his wife stated complacently, staring at the ceiling.

Henry ignored her, and nuzzled softly against her bare skin, dotted with scabs and love bites. "Olivia, you're so, so pretty," he whispered between kisses, inching closer and closer to the most intimate of places. Olivia's breath caught in her throat.

Henry wasted no time—he began licking tentatively at her underwear, his thumbs pressed so hard against her inner thigh it bruised. Olivia's eyes shut tight, her mouth offered no sound, not yet—even she had her pride. Her fingers slipped through Henry's velvety hair like liquid, although she couldn't control the slight arch of her back as his own fingers tugged at her underwear.

Olivia felt lightheaded, drunk on this strange man's touch and the foreign sense of it all. Against her better judgement, his name refuses to cease reverberating about her head.

_Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, please, I love you, so please…_

_ Love me._

Even with Henry's skinny fingers inside her and his kisses leaving bloody spots on her skin, Olivia felt as if a stranger was doing all these wonderful nothings to her. She returned to reality, squeezed her legs tighter, constricting, trapping.

All of the sudden Olivia forgot everything that is not Henry and how seductive he is and the way he—and only he—could make her feel. While his fingers rubbed her gently, she bit her lip so hard it bled and finally gave a throaty moan. Henry slipped his digits out and simply kissed her entrance. He lazily rubbed her thigh before sighing.

"Was that okay, Olivia?"

"Yes, Henry. Thank you."

"I love you, Olivia. I love you more than anything."

Henry sat up straight and lay on top of Olivia, her afterglow as pale and daunting as the moon. "You look especially beautiful like this."

Olivia felt no need to vocalize anything. She rubbed the nape of Henry's neck whilst he ran kisses up her jawline. The dancer's pulse quickening as she felt the familiar imprint of a smile against her skin.

"I can feel your heart beating, darling. I love the sound of it, ahaha…it's a nice reminder that you're alive! I don't know what I would do if you died," Henry spoke into her neck, his hot breath hitching in the tight space. "If you died, I think I would wanna die, too. It would be such a waste if you did, though. You're so special to me."

Olivia's eyes paled, as if in a trance. She found herself in the same imaginary ocean she always escaped to in dire times. The water around her popped as if charged with electricity. She saw her younger self walking on a beach, leaving footprints as if spirits were walking the sands behind her.

_Was I happy then?_

Henry nonchalantly rubbed his side, still bleeding. He grinned.

"Olivia…?"

"Yes, Henry?"

"I hope you fall in love with being alive. I hope a part of you stays there for eternity!" He got up, and stretched, just as when he first came in earlier. Olivia sat up and pulled a blanket over her lower torso. "It's getting dark, so I'm going to go practice magic with Ricken. Fire magic looks like little stars in the night sky!" He muffled his laughter with a free hand.

And with that, Olivia's husband left as if nothing that had happened previous mattered. A disheveled, sweat-dampened mess, she brushed her hair in slow strokes. Olivia skillfully pulled her flowery hair into a tight ponytail and secured it with a golden clasp. Once she appeared slightly presentable, she began dancing. A duet.

Holding hands with a ghost of a man, she began humming, then singing the verses of a song long forgotten.

_I have always loved everything about you._

_Even what I didn't understand._


End file.
